


Nothing's Gonna Stop Us

by wolver



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolver/pseuds/wolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once Kaner had to be the level-headed one and talk Johnny down from the ledge he'd worked himself up on, and that was fine, Kaner could do this. He was the master at distracting and fixing whatever that was wrong with Johnny.<br/>Set after game three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing's Gonna Stop Us

Somebody had to keep a level head, and for once it wasn't Johnny, not their Captain Serious with his reassuring comments and promises (threats) that they'd have the last say in this series - no, Johnny was silent, but Kaner could see him steaming from miles away-- and well, steaming wasn’t even the right word for Johnny’s mood, not really; no, he was stewing - a slow boil that continued to grow and fester until his knuckles were white from clenching the steering wheel so hard that Kaner was afraid they’d split. 

He was bottling up everything from the game, and yeah, Kaner got that, he was trying to keep his own cool ever since Hoss went down, was taken off the ice on this fucking stretcher - jesus christ, Hoss; Kaner wanted to cry (still) - but it would get them nowhere, this anger, unless they used it to their advantage on the ice - even then they still lost, and that one fucking burned, hot and unforgettable: they couldn't win that game for Hoss. Next time, next time - but Kaner was genuinely worried for Johnny that there might not be a next time if he kept his blood pressure up this high. For once Kaner had to be the level-headed one and talk Johnny down from the ledge he'd worked himself up on, and that was fine, Kaner could do this. He was the master at distracting and fixing whatever that was wrong with Johnny.

There was a loud clatter as Johnny dropped his bag on the floor, right there in the entrance hall, barely two steps inside the condo, and then he kicked his shoes off, angrily yanking at his tie. Kaner watched him and hovered behind for the time being knowing that if he pushed the issue too soon there was a major possibility he’d force Johnny into shutting down before he got anywhere. That would not do, so Kaner was careful and took it minute by minute, play by play, letting Johnny mutter angrily under his breath all the obscenities he wanted. And when Johnny directed himself towards the kitchen Kaner let him go; he busied himself by putting their shoes away and dragging their bags back towards the bedroom.

It became obvious that when Kaner returned to the kitchen that leaving Johnny to his own devices, even for as long as two fucking minutes, was a bad idea when he saw the shattered glass exploded across the tile floor. If anything, Johnny looked even more red in the face and it was like trying to take care of a four year old, honestly - one that refused Bob The Builder band-aids and his blanky (though Kaner was too afraid to ask the latter) - and Kaner fought not the roll his eyes lest he draw anymore ire from the captain.

“Here, I got it, man.” Kaner wasn’t taking any chances with Johnny handling broken glass - the outcome would surely not favor the ‘Yotes despite how satisfying that’d probably be to watch, damn - and he grabbed the broom and dustpan from the pantry as Johnny muttered something that Kaner was going to take as gratitude, then asked, “you didn’t cut yourself or anything, right?”

“I’m fine,” Johnny muttered, somewhat intelligibly this time and that must be a record - the caveman grunting tended to last for at least an hour - so Kaner had to be doing something right, or close to right and he was going to take advantage of that, maybe even successfully rid him of the foul mood completely. That would be awesome; he’d totally be superman then, for reals.

“You hungry? I was thinking I could make us some dinner.”

Then Johnny was directing him a furrowed brow; Kaner knew that look, and before he could open his mouth Kaner added, “yes, I’m well aware it’s after midnight, thanks. I’m hungry.”

“You can only cook chicken strips,” Johnny replied, looking dubious and well, that look was better than the previous and Kaner would take that - one step at a time, fucking baby steps alright: sure, he’d take one for the team by letting Johnny make fun of his awesome cooking skills. Granted, well, Kaner barely had the energy to make said chicken strips, but taking one for the team and all that, he supposed, if it got a response from Johnny.

“Yep. You game?”

For a moment it appeared that he was going to say no, then Kaner would be back to square one and have to head to the drawing board yet again, but Johnny surprised him and shrugged, saying, “whatever, change out of your suit first and don’t make a fucking mess in the kitchen.”

\--

It was probably all Kaner’s fault; things had been going fine, they were sharing a nice meal together in the dead of night, both dead tired and on the edge of barely functioning, and Kaner had to open his big mouth - which, was probably to be expected of him, who did Tazer think he was spending time with after all - but what clued him that he had messed up was not Johnny’s anger, in fact it was quite the opposite. He went quiet, and Johnny quiet was an eerie thing, something that he tried to avoid at all costs.

“I know,” Johnny had replied, his voice hushed, and the phrase _the calm before the storm_ was on repeat inside Kaner’s head like a mantra and god, all he had said was that things would be fine, they would get them back and it would be sweet as hell, that was all. That was _it_ ; nothing that warranted any disturbance of the calm they had settled in. There was no reason for Johnny to leave, but he slipped out of the room after that like a dog with its tail between his legs. With a kiss against Kaner’s curls, Johnny murmured a thanks and deposited his plate in the sink before disappearing back towards the bedroom.

And that wasn’t so bad, not really; he still had a handle on the situation, he assumed, but when he found the bedroom door locked he realized that he’d most likely done shit to help - that was demoralizing and all, obviously, but seriously Tazer?

"Seriously?" He voiced aloud because really, it wasn't like this was his fault - he was ninety-nine percent sure he hadn't done anything wrong yet tonight so there was no reason to be shut out like this, not tonight. "Johnny, come on, I’m fucking dead on my feet here, lemme in," he added, trying to coax him into complying.

Silence on the other side of the door, and Kaner rolled his eyes - leave it to Johnny to throw a massive temper tantrum like he was five years old again-- wait, no, four. Yep, he was still acting four years old and who would expect anything more?

"Tazer, you're being a dick. Let me the fuck in." Direct, unsubtle approach, and Johnny really responded when someone discarded subtly so surely some response one would think.

Nothing; the silence continued and fine, Kaner took the hint, but that didn't mean he was going to listen - especially to Johnny of all people, the dude never knew what he really needed (that was what Kaner was for, duh) - so Kaner retrieved a credit card (from Johnny’s wallet that he had left in the kitchen, fuck yeah revenge) and started the worm it in where the lock was situated. This was the only door he had ever mastered this art: in a similar situation as well, where Johnny had locked himself in the bedroom the night Kaner was due to be home after a road game, and Johnny was battling the concussion and was stupid enough to get in that fucking wreck, jesus Kaner was still ticked off a bit at that, too - it ended up being some shit where Johnny was embarrassed and cranky and Kaner big-spooned him all night which, well, was neither here nor there, he supposed. 

The door swung open and he was tempted to cackle with glee to be really fucking annoying, but then he caught sight of Johnny leaning over the sink in the adjoined bathroom--

The lighting was poor with only the small lamp on by the bed, but jesus, were his shoulders shaking? Oh dear god, Kaner felt his insides drop straight to the floor because no, Johnny was never supposed to cry, that was unnatural and wrong and he was easily the strongest in the room, and Kaner was suddenly terrified of just breaking him. Like Johnny would shatter in a million pieces all over the floor like that glass did in the kitchen. Taking in a deep breath, he forced himself to not be stupid, because Johnny needed him right now and Kaner would never ever fucking leave him hanging, and he closed the distance between the two of them, hesitantly placing a hand between shaking shoulder blades.

"Johnny," he whispered to Johnny's back, "don't shut me out, you moron."

His only response was a hitched breath, so Kaner slipped around between Johnny and the sink, sandwiched between the two, and he grabbed Johnny's biceps before he could yank himself away. Johnny still struggled, still holding onto the anger, the pain of watching yet another fallen teammate, and what Kaner wanted more than anything was to be able to take his pain away so he didn't have to carry the load anymore - he wasn't able to, for obvious reasons, but he'd do his damn hardest to help him shoulder whatever he could.

"Fuck off, Kaner," Johnny gritted out.

"You fuck off, " Kaner instantly responded and rolled his eyes. "Would you settle? It's not the end of the world if I see you cry. God knows you've watched me blubber enough."

Then, after thinking twice about what he said, Kaner added dryly, “at least you’re not on national television, eh?”

This seemed to put an end to the struggling, and those horrible heartbreaking tears, for now at least, and seeing that Johnny wasn't planning on bolting the second he was released Kaner let go of his biceps and moved a hand to Johnny's face to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks - he'd wipe and wipe until every tear was gone and Johnny was happy again. Johnny shied away a bit but he stood there resolutely, like this was a chore to deal with Kaner being this intimate with him, being on the receiving end of all this caring and shit was obviously such a hard load to bear sometimes, clearly, and if Kaner didn't love him so stupidly much at this moment he'd probably punch him in the face. 

"You're such a dumbass sometimes," Kaner said, and his voice sounded way too fond in the way that he couldn't hide whenever it came to this other man; it seemed to ease whatever extra tension Johnny had worked himself into, and there was a sniffle, a slight quirk of his lips and Johnny replied, soft but steady,

"Takes one to know one."

Kaner snorted, "seriously? That was lame, man."

Johnny just shrugged and his hands managed to find Kaner's hips (finally, a response other than Johnny looking like a lovesick puppy), gripping them securely as if he thought Kaner was going somewhere and he needed to hold onto him just in case-- which Kaner probably shouldn't think as endearing as he did, shut up; in return, Kaner wrapped an arm around Johnny's neck while the other, well-- it was a girly gesture, he was aware, but that observation proved worthless in stopping him from brushing his knuckles along Johnny’s rough cheek and he just waited for the chirping to commence.

(Lord, Johnny had a terrible looking beard, didn’t he-- and eh, Kaner pleaded the fifth on his own.)

Instead of the chirping, however, there was a "sorry," in its place.

"For what?" Kaner asked, his brow furrowing in confusion and he cupped Johnny’s cheek, feeling a happy tug in his chest when Johnny tipped his head into his touch ever so slightly. "Did you slip in and knock out the entire 'Yotes roster cause I'd be totally on board with that, just saying."

"No," and this time Johnny was rolling his eyes, yet he gave Kaner's hips a small squeeze, "just, you know."

Their eyes met, and for the first time since he had joined Johnny in the bathroom Kaner actually looked into his eyes, those dark orbs swirling with a pain and hopelessness that was suddenly mutually understood-- and Kaner almost choked on a sudden wave of emotion because this, this he wasn’t a stranger to: watching a teammate fall and there, always in the back of his head was the fear, was the worry about how _next time it could be you_ ; how selfish it was to be relieved that it wasn’t Johnny sprawled there on the ice, barely responsive - and god, he never wanted Johnny to worry because there wasn’t a single person in the entire world that would keep him from coming home with him at the end of the night. Period.

And the way that Johnny’s gaze suddenly softened indicated that whatever was showing on Kaner’s face was answer enough.

"For being emotionally constipated?" Kaner supplied a bit shaky at first as he tried to corral in the moment, to keep it from escalating into something even more unhappy and he was rewarded with a small glare but a reluctant nod as well. "It's okay, I know you're terrible at feelings, but you don't have to lock yourself in the bathroom if you need to, yanno, cry or whatever. I know my awesomeness is hard to handle, but it’s alright to let me be your boyfriend once and awhile."

Kaner saw him quirk another small smile before he was being manhandled up onto the counter behind him and then into a hug, to his credit he only flailed slightly in surprise, yikes - and goddamn, how strong Johnny was; it surprised him every single time (surprised and also turned him on, figure that). While Johnny’s face tucked in against his neck, Kaner curled his arms around Johnny’s shoulders while his thighs cradled his hips, clamping them tight to keep Johnny close and secure; his fingers stroked the short hair at the nape of Johnny’s neck, back and forth, trying to soothe all the pain away.

"I like when you're like this," Johnny admitted in a low voice, sounding embarrassed and unfortunately adorable at the same time, what a jerk.

Kaner smiled, slow and happy, turning his head to kiss Johnny's cheek, and he breathed out, "I love you."

“Love you back,” was mumbled in return, with Johnny’s lips brushing against the heated skin of Kaner’s neck where his face was buried, and this was good, very good, because there were no more lines of tension stringing Johnny’s body taut and ready to snap at the slightest miscue - Kaner was feeding off the ease and positivity and finally, the blanket of exhaustion started to make itself apparent, creeping across his senses in a slow and sure manner.

They lapsed into a lazy silence, one where Kaner idly traced his fingers over Johnny’s shoulder blades and he sat there, half-asleep, perched on the edge of the seat until he felt himself slipping, easily sliding into the rounded bowl of the sink and that would have to do because he was too tired to do anything about it. So there he stayed, kind of squished and feeling somewhat like a child, with the faucet digging uncomfortably into his back until Johnny finally noticed.

“What the--” he started, and pulling back as much as Kaner would let him, he uttered a soft incredulous laugh, pressing their foreheads together, “you’re in the sink.”

“Mm,” Kaner hummed in agreement.

“Kaner,” Johnny breathed, pressing their lips together before kissing both of his cheeks and his nose, and this was nice, this was fucking perfect because Johnny was back to his old self again, “baby, you’re wrecked. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“Sure,” he murmured, though none of his muscles agreed to cooperate in moving, in fact they argued quite heavily (where did all these aches and pains suddenly come from, anyway), and the bed seemed too far away, too big of a mountain to climb and all that, and honestly, he’d be a-okay with staying right here, in the sink and wrapped around Johnny.

It was obvious after a moment, to Johnny at least, that Kaner wasn’t going to be moving anytime soon and if they relied on his schedule then they’d probably be in there for awhile, no doubt, so Johnny encouraged, “hold onto me,” and when Kaner complied he was being lifted - jesus, yep, Tazer was still fucking strong and that was also still very awesome; he was not ashamed to admit that. So Johnny carried him to the bed in a way that Kaner should probably be questioning his manhood, but fuck that: whoever came up with what was manly and shit had never been carried by Johnny, they didn’t know what they were missing.

"Pat, wait, the covers--" Johnny mumbled, but in reality did little to protest against being dragged down on the bed when he tried to pull away - he at least managed to reach out enough to flip off the lamp before tumbling into Kaner's grip until they were a mess of limbs. Curled up in the warm, solid body of Johnny, loose and finally relaxed - it was worth it, spending these few extra hours awake to make sure Johnny was okay because with an okay Johnny that meant an okay Kaner and they'd totally tear it up in the playoffs together, for Hoss. For the 'Hawks. For the Cup.


End file.
